


Oeufs, S'il Vous Plaît

by polygondusted



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Language Mix-ups, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polygondusted/pseuds/polygondusted
Summary: Anton wants Hugo to teach him how to speak French.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellalujah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/gifts).



> Hope you like it, K! <3

"Mon coeur," murmurs Hugo against Anton's neck.

A delicious shiver runs up Anton's spine as Hugo's warm breath tickles his skin. Anton sighs and pulls him closer, as close as two separate people could possibly be. Wrapping a lanky arm around Anton's waist, Hugo continues to whisper against Anton's skin, a tiny kiss punctuating each word.

"Je t'aimerais jusqu'à la fin de mes jours," he breaths, shifting slightly to press his lips to Anton's collarbone.

Anton's eyes flutter closed and he tries to hold onto the feeling of Hugo's words against his skin. His French is subpar at best, but even without understanding him, the raw emotion behind Hugo's words is enough to leave him a little breathless.

"Hugo." Anton's eyes are still shut as he speaks, the stubble of Hugo's beard and the velvety softness of his lips making it a struggle for him to utter the word.

Hugo stops peppering kisses on Anton's collarbone and looks up at him, cocking his head. "Mhm?" He begins to trace lazy circles on Anton's chest with the hand that isn't slung over his waist.

"What do those words that you just said mean?" Anton asks. He loves when Hugo talks in his native language — there's something about the way the words flow together that makes Anton perfectly content to listen to Hugo babble away about anything and everything for hours on end.

"Ah," says Hugo, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "it means, 'I will love you until the end of my days.'"

Anton cups Hugo's face in his hands, gently rubbing his thumbs across Hugo's flushed cheeks. "I love you, too," he says, kissing the tip of Hugo's nose.

He pulls away slowly, his hands making their way to rest on the curves of Hugo's hips. "Hugo?" he asks, "Do you think you could teach me how to speak French?"

"Really?" Hugo's eyebrows lift up in surprise. Anton has never really shown any interest in learning the language until now, but Hugo is more than happy to oblige. "Of course I'll teach you, but can I just ask — why the sudden interest?"

Anton grins sheepishly, ruffling his messy hair with his hand. "I figured it was about time I actually understood what you were saying when we, you know..." He trails off, leaving it up to Hugo to know what he meant. "And it would be nice to know what your parents are saying when we visit them," he adds hastily.

"Oui, oui. Puis, j'ai faim, nous devrions aller chercher un peu de nourriture," says Hugo, giving a light tap to Anton's cheek.

Anton's eyebrows crease as he frowns at Hugo. "You do know that I still can't understand you, right?"

Hugo lets out a little laugh, grabbing both of Anton's hands and pulling him off the bed.

"I know," he chuckles, "that was your first lesson. It means, 'Well, I'm hungry, we should go get some food.'"

—

Hugo takes a sip of his chai latte before setting the coffee cup down on the table.

"Alright, so I think I'm just going to teach you some basic conversational phrases first," he clarifies. "Then we'll move on to individual words and things like that."

Anton nods eagerly, his clear eyes glittering with excitement. He wonders if French will be similar to German at all, which would make this whole process much easier, but he doubts it. The rough, guttural sounds of German are nothing like the melodic lilts of the French language. But no matter, he's intent on learning it and besides, Hugo will be there to help him.

"So," begins Hugo, "if you're having a casual conversation with someone, you would ask, 'Ça va?' which just means, 'How are you?'"

Anton jots down the phrase on a fresh page of a brand-new journal. He'd read somewhere that the easiest way to learn a language was to write everything down and Hugo had thought that it sounded like a good idea, too.

Hugo waits for Anton for finish scribbling in his notebook before continuing on. "And to respond, you would say, 'Ça va bien.'"

Anton furrows his eyebrows and looks up at Hugo quizzically, writing down the response after a brief moment of hesitation. "So you're telling me that I could have a short conversation with you using pretty much the exact same words?"

”Yeah,” says Hugo, shrugging his shoulders, “French is strange that way.” He rests his chin on his hands as he thinks of what to teach Anton next. “Maybe we should switch topics. Why don’t we learn how to order food since we’re at a café?”

"Whatever you think would be best." Truth be told, Anton really doesn't care what Hugo teaches him first as long as he gets to listen to Hugo speak French. Don't get him wrong, though — he does genuinely want to learn the language and hearing Hugo speak in his native tongue just happens to be an added bonus. 

A very attractive added bonus.

—

The next two hours pass by in a blur of disjointed French and English. Anton rolls his wrist, trying to relieve the dull aching sensation that had claimed his hand after the first hour of feverish note-taking.

“Want to review some things once more before we’re done?” asks Hugo. He begins gathering his things, tucking his phone into the pocket of his jeans and taking one last sip from his now-empty coffee cup.

"I think I'm alright for now," Anton replies. He's surprised that he's learned as much as he has in the past couple of hours since his thoughts tend to go somewhat fuzzy whenever Hugo speaks French.

He watches as Hugo takes out a few bills from his wallet and slips them underneath the check holder laying on the table. He tosses a easy smile in Anton's direction. "Lunch is on me."

"You sure?" asks Anton. Hugo nods, taking Anton's hand into his own as they get up from their seats. Anton pecks a quick kiss on Hugo's cheek, a gesture of gratitude. "Thank you," he begins to say, then stops. "Or should I say, _merci_."

"De rien," replies Hugo, a warm smile still settled on his lips.

During their walk home, Hugo points out certain things that they pass along the way and gives Anton their names in French. "That's a _voiture_ ," he says, motioning towards a car parked on the side of the street and Anton make a mental note to jot that down in his notebook later.

"What's that?" Anton points to a tiny dog that's yipping obnoxiously on the end of its leash, its owner looking visibly exhasperated as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

Hugo laughs, shaking his head at the noisy mutt. "That's a _chien très ennuyeux_. A very annoying dog!"

Anton snorts. "You can say that again." He laces his fingers with Hugo's and gives his hand a little squeeze. "I really appreciate you teaching me French." He locks eyes with Hugo, offers him a sweet smile.

"And I appreciate you wanting to learn." He presses a gentle kiss to Anton's forehead, lips just barely brushing against his skin. Anton hums happily in response and hand-in-hand they make their way home.

—

"Are you sure you don't want me to order for you?" asks Hugo, eyebrows raised.

Anton shakes his head adamantly. This is their first time visiting France since Hugo had begun giving him lessons and Anton wants to prove to him that all of the hours he's spent studying over the months haven't been for nothing. Hugo was already pleasantly impressed when Anton was able to understand his parents when they had stopped in to say hello and Anton didn't plan on abandoning his newfound skills there.

"I think I got this." Anton closes his menu and stacks it on top of Hugo's. He takes a sip from his glass of water as he looks around the quaint café in search of a waiter to take their order.

Luckily, they aren't kept waiting for too long. Hugo manages to flag down a waiter and rattles off his order in rapid French, handing over their two menus.

The waiter finishes scribbling Hugo's request into his notepad and looks up expectantly at Anton once he's done, lightly tapping his pencil against the paper.

"Bonjour," Anton begins, praying that his accent doesn't sound too atrocious. He carefully enunciates each word, glancing over at Hugo who just nods encouragingly. "Je voudrais avoir des oeufs avec des... des..." His mind goes completely blank before he can get out the last phrase.

 _Scheiße, what's the word for sausage? Think, think, think..._ He strains to remember the simple term and regrets insisting on ordering for himself.

In a last-ditch effort to save himself from embarrassment, Anton says the first word that comes to mind. "Avec des chien," he blurts out.

The waiter's mouth drops open and he gapes at Anton in horror. He spits out something in French that's much too fast for Anton to even hope to make sense of and leaves their table without another word.

Anton is left utterly baffled and he looks to Hugo for help, only to find him with both hands clapped over his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle his laughter.

"Did I say something wrong?" Anton's expression is pleading as he tries to piece together what had just happened.

"Mon chou, I think you may have gotten a little confused," Hugo manages to get out. His shoulders shake with silent laughter and he reaches out a hand to clasp Anton's wrist.

"Hugo, just tell me what I said." Anton's voice comes out more forceful than intended but he's too confused to apologize.

Hugo drags in a breath, composes himself enough to offer Anton an explanation. "Chérie, the waiter was horrified because you ordered eggs and _dog_."

 _Oh my God_ , thinks Anton and he mentally kicks himself. He's absolutely mortified and the hot, fervent blush spreading across his cheeks does nothing to hide his embarrassment. Hastily, he babbles out an apology, an incoherent mix of German and English that's only halted by Hugo shifting in his chair to murmur soothing words into Anton's ear.

"Shhh, mon amour, it's alright. It was just a mistake. You're okay." Anton forces himself to listen to Hugo's comforting words and takes a deep breath.

"You're not embarrassed by me?" he asks, leaning into Hugo's consoling embrace.

Hugo shakes his head and runs his hands over Anton's shoulders. "Of course not. Look how far you've come! You were able to understand the waiter and order for yourself without me. You just forgot one little word, that's all."

The corners of Anton's mouth twitch in a hesitant smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Giving Anton one last squeeze, Hugo briskly stands up. He links his arm with Anton's and guides him towards the café's exit, not bothering to pause when the waiter shoots them a distasteful look. "How about we go and see if there are any good bakeries around here?" he offers.

"S'il vous plaît," Anton replies. He cracks a grin almost despite himself. "And this time I'll make sure to order something else besides dog."


End file.
